


Ingenue

by carolinecrane



Category: D3: The Mighty Ducks (1996), Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no such thing as privacy in boarding school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ingenue

It was like this after every game. Win or lose, it didn't matter, the adrenaline rush was still the same. For awhile he worried that that was all it was, but then came the first time Portman kissed him on a night when they hadn't even had practice, and Fulton knew it wasn't just the adrenaline rush that made Portman want him.

So he didn't really mind being shoved up against the door as soon as they got back to their room after every game. More than that, he _liked_ it, and he liked that Portman liked him back. The only complaint he really had was the fact that anybody could walk in on them any time they felt like it, and considering their teammates, odds were they were going to get caught any day now.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Wasn't sure how Portman felt, either, but considering how careful he wasn't, Fulton had a feeling he hadn't given it much thought.

"Door," he mumbled against Portman's mouth when he felt himself being dragged forward, toward the bed and would it really have killed the school to put locks on their doors?

Portman swore under his breath and let go, glancing around the room for…something. As soon as he reached for a desk chair Fulton knew what he was thinking, and he shook his head and leaned back against the door in question. "You tried that already, remember? It didn't work."

"Works in the movies," Portman grumbled, and great, now he sounded pissed. Or maybe just frustrated, but neither of those things were good for Fulton, and he wished he'd kept his mouth shut and let Portman pull them down onto his bed. Because sure, somebody could walk in and catch them, but at least there would be something to catch.

For a minute they both just stood there, Portman in the center of their room and Fulton's back against the door and way too much space between them. He was pretty sure he'd blown it, and he didn't even know why he'd said anything because it wasn't like they'd never taken the chance before. Except that the team had started looking at them kind of funny lately, and he was pretty sure if they didn't know, that at least a few of them were well on their way to figuring it out.

Another minute passed, and Fulton had resigned himself to the fact that his big mouth had ruined any chance of something happening tonight when Portman moved again. A few long strides forward, mouth set in a determined line and Fulton was pretty sure he heard a muttered 'fuck it' as Portman's hand closed around the front of his shirt and dragged him forward.

He opened his mouth to argue, wishing almost instantly that he could kick his own ass for being so stupid, but before he managed to ruin things a second time Portman was kissing him. His hands were under Fulton's shirt and that was hot, but the way Portman was kissing him was even hotter. Hard and determined, like he was trying to prove a point, and when Fulton felt himself being shoved backward to land hard on the edge of the bed he was too surprised to complain.

Then Portman was standing in front of him, just watching for a second to make sure he had Fulton's attention before he reached down and tugged his shirt over his head. And that should have been hot too, but he could tell that under the determination Portman was feeling kind of…exposed, and Fulton blushed bright red as he watched Portman drop his shirt on the floor and walk toward him.

Usually when they did this there wasn't a whole lot of time to think about it; most of the time when Fulton's back hit the door that was where it stayed, and they were both too busy kissing and tugging frantically at clothes to worry about what they looked like. But this…this was Portman, on display, and it was a lot different than when he went crazy in the penalty box and started tearing his clothes off. This was all for Fulton's benefit, and he'd never had this much time to think about what they were doing before they even did it.

Even when Portman crawled into bed with him in the middle of the night it was dark, so Fulton didn't have to worry about what he looked like or how Portman reacted to his clumsy hands and his inexpert kisses. But it wasn't the middle of the night right now; it was broad daylight on a Saturday afternoon, and any second now somebody was going to open that door and find them…what, having a staring contest?

And he didn't think he could blush harder until he did, but before he had a chance to say anything stupid Portman was right there, climbing sort of awkwardly onto the bed next to him and leaning in for another kiss. Their teeth clashed and Fulton winced, but he kissed back anyway as Portman's hands slid under his shirt, stomach fluttering at the brush of rough fingers against pale skin.

"Oh, God," he felt himself murmur as Portman shoved him backwards again, sending them both sprawling on the mattress and then Portman's thigh was shoving his legs apart and that…yeah, that was great. Perfect, because Portman had touched him before, but never while Fulton could watch his face. And he was positive he was never going to stop blushing, but he didn't care as long as Portman kept kissing his neck like that.

He knew he was thrusting up against Portman's thigh but he couldn't stop himself, didn't want to even though he knew it meant in about three seconds he'd be coming in his jeans. Wouldn't be the first time for that either, and anyway he was pretty sure Portman didn't care.

As soon as he thought it Portman pulled back, expression intense and Fulton couldn't help it; he laughed. High and nervous and now he was positive he'd ruined everything, but before he got the chance to find out the doorknob turned and then someone who definitely wasn't Portman was talking.

"Party in your room…holy crap. Uh…okay… _private party_ in your room."

"Shut the fucking door, Averman," Portman growled, voice low and dangerous and Fulton's cock twitched even though the rest of him was dying of embarrassment.

"Right. As you…uh…were."

The door slammed shut to the sound of shocked laughter, and Fulton's blush threatened to catch on fire. And it would be Averman; of _course_ it was Averman, because of all their teammates, he was guaranteed to be the first to spread the news as far and wide as he could. To the rest of the team, anyway, whereas if it had been somebody like Guy or Adam he might have been too traumatized to talk about it until they could do some damage control.

Then again, 'damage control' would probably consist of killing whoever saw them and hiding the body, and it would be easier to explain to the team why they were half naked and making out on his bed than it would to explain what happened to one of their friends.

"Oh God," he said again, for a completely different reason this time. "Oh God oh God oh God."

"Calm down," Portman said, hands still holding Fulton down and that didn't make any sense because what they _should_ be doing was putting as much distance between each other as possible. Any second now that door was going to open again, because it was _Averman_ and he wouldn't rest until someone else witnessed what he'd seen.

"Are you crazy?" Fulton asked, trying and failing to push Portman far enough off him to sit up. "He's going to go tell everybody."

Instead of coming to his senses Portman just grinned, shaking his head and pushing Fulton back down. "So what? They would have found out sooner or later anyway."

And that…okay, that he wasn't expecting. He'd wondered every once in awhile if Portman really cared who knew about them, but he'd never expected him to be so casual about it. It was kind of nice, in a way, because it meant Portman wasn't embarrassed by him. By _them_. Only Fulton wasn't so sure how much _he_ wanted all their friends knowing about them, especially when he thought about how much crap they were going to have to take from Averman.

"He's going to torture us."

"So we'll check him extra hard in the next few practices; that'll shut him up." Portman grinned again and finally rolled off Fulton, but instead of putting some distance between them he slid an arm around Fulton's waist and pulled him close. "Look at it this way. At least nobody will ever walk in our room without knocking again."


End file.
